


Glass Shards

by gothjotun



Category: Hereditary, hereditary movie
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 19:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothjotun/pseuds/gothjotun
Summary: Now he felt like guzzling glass shards, so when he opened his mouth to speak, at least something would come out. Bits of raw diamond covered in deep red, oozing past his chapped lips and onto the floor. He was a picture worth a thousand words, and yet, he still needed to speak.





	Glass Shards

Peter stood rigid during the worship of his new form, thoughts muffled, dusted over with foreign song. Slates of joy were gently placed into his mouth after being tenderly pried open with a stranger's hand. The shards tickled the back of his throat as he felt like coughing up bile instead of thanks, and he could feel his saliva thicken, trying to glue up the scratching he felt near his jugular. It felt raw, like it was bleeding internally, but instead of spitting up glass, he kept it to himself. He expressed gratitude through the pain, the loss of his family and the dissipation of his normal life. 

Their joy was his agony.

He tried to express acceptance, but what wanted to come out of his mouth was rage dripping from a double edged sword of a tongue. He felt bile rise in his throat, the blood in his mouth turning black. He wanted to release the mess in his mouth, but instead, he smiled softly. 

The glass bits were pieces of a wide range of emotions. Peter could feel it scrape against the roof of his mouth, a part of him wanted to scream. But the larger part of him manifested a sparkle in his tear soaked eyes, his canines sharpening in delight.

The glass that naturally reflected his pain would have to stay. 

The song of strangers gently lulled him forwards, as if he was in a permanent state of a trance. Each clumsy step of the way. They called out to him, voices hoarse, a sense of pride building in his chest mingling with morbid curiosity. Who were these people? A part of him knew them by name, but his childlike piece of the headspace was almost bored with the whole ceremony. 

Peter stepped around these figures, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his mouth. Heavy weighs the crown of the Christ child’s demonic predecessor.

Adonai Elohim, Ah Sat-an

Yetzer Hara

Contentment, peace in this strong vessel. The king was at ease.

But the boy was not. 

He then promptly started to slump over after the praise slowly ended. Peter’s shoulders sagged as his joints started to buckle. He swayed gently, starting to fall to his knees before Joan caught him. His shaking frame was held loose in her arms as she stroked his damp hair.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Joan murmured, helping him stand up tall again. 

“I know this is all very new to you, but we’re here to guide you. All of us.”

“All of us.”

The people echoed.

He clucked softly, tiredly glancing around the small room, pale and trembling. Eyes half lidded and full with water, he looked down and sniffled.

“It’s okay, love. We’re here.” 

Joan’s voice sounded so far away. He blinked slowly, long eyelashes coated in tears, the liquid sliding down his clammy cheeks at a dangerously slow pace. If the water wasn’t released from his eyes soon enough, he felt like he’d drown from the inside out. 

“Charlie? Is everything alright?”

“That’s okay.” The boy vessel murmured, chewing his bottom lip gently as his eyes slowly looked around again.

Now he felt like guzzling glass shards, so when he opened his mouth to speak, at least something would come out. Bits of raw diamond covered in deep red, oozing past his chapped lips and onto the floor. He was a picture worth a thousand words, and yet, he still needed to speak. 

“Can I go home now?” He whispered, something stirring inside of him.

It made him feel bigger than his thin frame. If strength was forged from loss, then mountains he could move. This person, this...king...inside of him, he was a titan star inside of a plastic skeleton. There was a part of Peter that was dead inside, taken over by this demonic god, and his little sister.

“Let us sup, now. We need strength.” The king suggested, but Peter felt nauseous.

He sniffled softly, a shaking hand coming up to wipe away his tears. Peter wanted his mom. He wanted his dad. He wanted his sister back and he was pissed about his dead dog.

So, this is his life now. Charlie, Paimon, and the shell of the boy that he once was. What would they do now? What was this? What can he do?

What am I?

“The unholy trinity.” A strong voice answered.

The antichrist.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment if you liked it! Kudos are definitely welcomed <3


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